Publisher's Synopsis
'Tain't more 'n a month ter Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?" said the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously resigned sigh. "Yes, I know, Samuel," returned his wife, sending a swift glance over the top of her glasses. If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign. "Hm!" he murmured. "I've got ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers you got?--eh?" "Oh, Samuel!" remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly. "I don't care," asserted Samuel with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in his chair. "Seems as if we might get somethin' for Christmas 'sides slippers an' neckerchiefs. Jest 'cause we ain't so young as we once was ain't no sign that we've lost all our faculty for enj'yment!" "But, Samuel, they're good an' kind, an' want ter give us somethin'," faltered Lydia Ann; "and--"
